A Pale Imitation
by DramaGeek
Summary: After getting into a fight with Twelve, Clara runs into a man who looks exactly like the Eleventh Doctor. The two of them have instant chemistry, but given his appearance she can't help but question her motives for pursuing him. Sequel to 'Pretending', but can be read as a stand alone.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** _This was meant as a sequel to 'Pretending', in which Clara and Eleven spend time in Venice with Casanova, who just happens to look exactly like the Tenth Doctor. If you haven't read that story all you need to know if that the Doctor's regenerations aren't completely random, and are often subconsciously based off of people he has met._

_There will be one more chapter after this. I'm just editing it now, so I should have it up by tomorrow. _

A wise entity once said that the sound of the TARDIS brings hope wherever it goes. If Clara Oswald had had the benefit of hearing that statement she would have heartily agreed (with perhaps the obvious exception of the Daleks, Cybermen, and the like). Today, however, that familiar wheezing only filled her with annoyance and she actively ignored the blue box's presence in her kitchen as she cleaned off her few breakfast dishes and packed her bag. Ten or so minutes later the Doctor left the TARDIS, having reached the upper limit of his patience. "Why the delay, Oswald?"

"It's half seven," Clara said without looking up from her task.

"I fail to see the relevance of—"

"I leave for work at half seven." The Doctor showed no sign of comprehension. "It's Wednesday, Doctor. I have work today."

He rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, "We have a time machine! The current date and time, they're irrelevant. We can go away for years and I can have you back not a moment later. Why is it you humans never fully grasp the concept of time travel?"

"Why is it that you Time Lords are so bad at _time_? Fridays after 4. You assure me you can get me back in the exact moment I wish, and yet you can't even seem to get this simple time right," Clara looked up from her bag and caught the flash of anger on his face.

He gritted his teeth and tried to keep his voice level as he said, "I take it you're not coming then."

"Friday after 4, Doctor," she said as she put on her coat and swung the bag over her shoulder. She began walking towards the door, but stopped at the sound of his voice.

"Don't know if I can make it this Friday. I'm rather busy, whole universe of responsibilities out there. Can't always be at your beck and call."

"There are plenty of Fridays, I'm sure you'll find one that works for you." She walked out of the house before he could reply.

Clara was fuming the whole walk to the tube. She hated fighting with the Doctor, but ever since his regeneration he had developed quite a knack for pushing her buttons. He was just so stubborn. Then again, so was she, which pretty much insured they'd be fighting until the end of time. Clara never fought with the Eleventh Doctor. At worst they bickered. He was too skittish and sweet to fight with her. Besides, she was 'the boss'. Sadly that opinion hasn't made it through the regeneration. Sometimes Clara just wished... _No_, she thought, _that wasn't fair_. Just after his regeneration Clara longed for him to change back. There wasn't anything wrong with the latest version, but he wasn't _her Doctor_. However, by this point they had spent enough time together that Clara really did think of him as the Doctor, and no longer yearned for his past self. Excepted in moments like this, when her ire was up and she missed her docile Doctor who had nothing but kind words for her. Who thought she was perfect and _impossible_. Clara marveled at the fact that it still hurt to think about his past regeneration, even all this time later. She felt foolish for admitting that. The Doctor wasn't dead, and yet the man he use to be was gone. Lost to her. Thinking about his Eleventh self made her feel strangely homesick.

Clara was so fixated on the Doctor it was as though she had conjured him there on the platform. The tall, thin man in front of her had similar chestnut brown hair and seem to even move with his gait, or so Clara wanted to believe. As the train pulled into the station the man turned to watch its approach and Clara glimpsed his profile. It was the Doctor! She was so certain she called out to him. He didn't reply, simply walked on the train. Clara followed after him, calling his name. When at last she caught up to him she placed a hand on his arm. He turned around at the contact, as she said his name once again. "Do you need a Doctor?" he asked. He looked at her with concern, but no recognition.

She was too early. He didn't know her yet. This was bad. She may not have been crossing her own time line, but she might as well have been. _When_ the Doctor met her was important. A great many things including his life depended on it. Clara glanced around the car, but it was mobbed with commuters, there was no where for her to go. "Sorry," she said, keeping her eyes low, "Must have mistook you for someone else."

The man smiled in amusement, "Oh, you thought I was the doctor?" he laughed at that. "Trust me, you wouldn't want me as a doctor, I didn't even attempt my A levels in Science."

There was something strange about his voice. A twang the Doctor didn't usually have. Clara looked at him more freely. He wore a black suit, skinny tie, and glasses (normal ones, not his much beloved round ones). She stared into his eyes, but barely found a trace of sadness there. His eyes were young. This wasn't the Doctor.

The young man didn't seem to mind the scrutiny of her gaze. He simply smiled at her and then, as if remembering where they were offered her the seat in front of them. Clara took it on instinct, still trying to work out just who this man was. He took the seat beside her and asked, "Have I got something on my face?"

Clara shook her head, "Sorry, I'm being rude. It's just... You remind me of someone, that's all."

"Someone you haven't seen in a while, I'm guessing." Clara raised a hesitant eyebrow. "You just looked overly pleased to see me. I mean not that I mind. It's nice when people are pleased, though I guess it would be better if you were actually looking for me..." he rambled. "I'm Danny by the way," he said, trying to recover slightly. "Danny Foster."

"Clara Oswald," she shook his outstretched hand. It was smoother than the Doctor's had been. Less calloused. "And where are you off to this fine morning, Danny?" Clara asked, trying to steer the conversation away from her and who she thought he looked like.

"Parliament."

"Why are you going there?"

"That's where I work. I'm a researcher for Jo Porter."

"I like Jo Porter." He smiled fondly at that. "I really appreciated her Community Outreach Plan. I think it's just what our country needs." Danny looked at her strangely. Clara scan through her memories, trying to place that particular bit of knowledge. The Doctor had over shot and landed them several months in the future recently. Had she heard about the Plan then? "Or was that some thing else? I afraid I've got those sorts of bills all mixed up."

"No, no, you're not wrong, we're working on that right now," he indicated to his satchel, "we just haven't made it public yet." He was still scrutinizing her.

"Lucky guess, I guess," Clara shrugged.

"Either that or you're a mind reader. Or a spy."

"Just a time traveler," she said casually.

Danny seemed to light up, "Wouldn't that be something, time travel! Live through your favorite moments in history. Meet your heroes. I know they say you shouldn't, but there are some..."

"Like who?" She probed, enjoying his very Doctor like enthusiasm. "If you had a time machine who would you meet?"

Danny didn't hesitate, "Mandela. I'd see him twice. Once early on, just after he first joined the ANC and then again towards the end of his life."

"That's a good choice. Mandela's a kind man, and he makes a mean plate of bobotie." That made Danny laugh out loud.

His own witty reply was interrupted by a disembodied voice over the loud speaker, "The next station is Westminster. Change for the Circle Line. Alight here for Westminster Abby and the Houses of Parliament."

"Looks like this is your stop," Clara said, a little sad to see him go.

Danny looked perturbed that their conversation was coming to an end so soon. "Would you like to get a drink sometime?"

"Sure." That wasn't what Clara meant to say. She meant to say 'no'. It wouldn't work, it would just be confusing. But she said yes, and with the train on the move there was no time to take it back.

"Great!" His face was filled with a big, goofy grin. "How about tonight? Gordon's Wine Bar at 8?"

"Perfect," Clara heard herself say, although her rational mind was still trying to figure how it got this far. They had just enough time to exchange numbers before the train pulled into Westminster.

"I'll... I'll see you tonight," Danny said excitedly, nearly knocking a woman over because he was looking back at Clara while trying to exit. He even gave her a quick waved from the platform as the train pulled away.

They had arranged to meet on the bank of the Thames. Clara was a couple of minutes early and much to her surprise Danny arrived exactly at 8 (clearly the Doctor had not copied his punctuality). They exchanged hellos, walked into the bar, and found a small table in the cellar. Clara loved the way the candle light flickered against the low, curved ceiling. She had been there once before, in the 1600s. Her and the Doctor had hidden in the cellar. They were being pursued by Catarans. Strange, mole like aliens with very weak eye sight, but strong hearing and sense of smell. The wine cellar (and perhaps time period itself) had been enough to mask the Doctor and Clara's scent, but they still had to be very quiet. They were even doing a good job of it until the Doctor leaned on an unsupported shelf and sent it, several metal tools, and 4 ceramic jugs crashing to the floor. That's when the two of them began running. Clara had swiped a wine skin on her way out. Back in the TARDIS she pour a glass for the Doctor and herself. She had quite enjoyed the wine, but the Doctor had spit his first sip back into the glass. They hadn't touched the wine skin since. It was probably still somewhere in the TARDIS. Hundreds of years in that body and he never developed a taste for wine. Clara glanced over at Danny. Did he have one?

As if reading her mind (at lease in part) Danny said, "I'm usually more of a beer drinker, but at work functions it's all about the wine, so I've picked up a thing or two. I've had to." He ordered them a bottle and nearly started a fire by placing the menu too close to a candle.

_Clearly the Doctor did picked up some of his traits,_ Clara thought. "So I think I've figured out why you looked so familiar," Clara said as the server departed.

"I thought you said I reminded you of your friend?"

"You do. But your face is also familiar, like maybe I've seen you before." Clara had been thinking about it all day, wondering which of the Doctors had met Danny and why he had chosen Danny's face. She was determined to get an answer. "I think maybe I've seen your picture."

"'S possible. Like if we have a mutual friend or something?"

"Or acquaintance. A number of my friends belong to this sort of club of doctors and at first I thought you might be part of it."

"Hence this morning."

"Exactly. But I was thinking, maybe I just saw you in a picture with one of them."

"Makes sense," Danny said with a nod, "what are their names?"

Clara made a face, "That's what makes it tricky. They just go by 'Doctor'."

Danny laughed, "A group of doctors that just call themselves 'Doctor'?"

"They're an eccentric bunch."

Danny could tell this mattered to Clara, and although he had no idea why it would, he was happy to help her solve it, "So what do they look like, your friends, the _Doctors_?"

"One of them is very tall and thin, with spiky hair, sideburns, and a long brown coat." Danny shook his head. "Another one has short cropped hair, wears a leather jacket, and has big ears." That description made Danny laugh, but wasn't familiar. Clara wondered just how far back it might have been. That was the trouble with time travel. You could never count on things happening in order. She thought back to Casanova. It was the Doctor's fourth self who had met him. "How about man with very curly hair and a ridiculously long scarf?" Danny raised an eyebrow. "They also share a rather strange sense of fashion."

"Does one of them wear a piece of celery on his lapel?" Clara laughed excitedly, pleased to have found an answer. "Doctor Smith! I met him at a wedding a few years ago. We had both gone alone and got to talking. He's a big cricket fan, isn't he?" Clara nodded. "I liked him a lot. He was a very moral man, very concerned about doing what was right." Danny chuckled as he remembered something else, "He seemed to enjoy my dancing. Said I looked like a drunken giraffe. Actually he said something funny to me, on the dance floor. He said that if he ever felt brokenhearted and terribly old, he wanted to feel like me, carefree and completely mad." Danny's smile fell when he looked over at Clara. "Are you okay?"

In that moment Clara felt desperately sad and she wasn't doing a good job of hiding it. And Danny looking at her kindly, with his _young_ eyes, wasn't helping. Her first instinct was always to help others. To make them feel better. But no matter what she did she couldn't help the Doctor. Not completely. His past was just too tragic, and too big, and all together just too _past_. It broke her heart to think the face she so treasured was just another coping mechanism. Clara shook her head and tried to smile. She apologized for getting 'lost in her head' and turned the conversation to happier topics.

Fortunately conversation was easy and soon Clara's smile was replaced with a real on. They talked until the bar closed, and as Danny walked with Clara back to the subway he ask, "Can I see you again?"

Clara's instinct was to make some quip about being able to see her right now, but instead she said, "Yes."

Danny looked immensely pleased to hear it. "Tomorrow?" He asked eagerly.

"Sorry, parents night at the school."

"Friday then?"

Clara was about to say 'no'. She never booked anything on Fridays. That was the Doctor's day. But he was the one who said he 'couldn't make it'. And who knows with him. He might not come back for years, or he might be already at her flat. She didn't always have to make her plans around him. "Sure," she said, almost defiantly. If he was busy, she could be too.

**A/N** _I couldn't resist using another one of Matt Smith's roles for this story. Danny Foster is the character he played on Party Animals._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N **_Here's the last part. Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think._

Clara and Danny had grabbed dinner at a Thai restaurant in the west end, near Clara's house. Once again the conversation had been lively and the company enjoyable. There were undoubtedly many characteristics and behaviours the Doctor had stolen from Danny, but, as with Casanova, there seemed to be just as many traits that were unique. It seemed the more time they spent together the less Clara saw the Doctor and the more she saw Danny, which suited her fine. Danny insisted on walking Clara to her door, Clara welcomed the company and, upon arrival, realized she didn't want the conversation to end. "Do you want to come up for tea?" Danny looked genuinely surprised, but pleased. "That's real tea, not any other..."

"Shenanigans? I'd love some."

Danny took a seat on the couch while Clara put the kettle on. "I like your place." He said, glancing around the clean, but rather empty room. "Did you just move in?"

"A little while ago," Clara said, placing a tray in front of him. "Haven't had a lot of time to decorate."

His eyes were now scanning her bookshelf, and seemed to go wide with wonder, "Is that a fez? That's cool!"

"Yeah, that was my friend's. The one you remind me of."

"'Was' as in he gave it to you and it's now yours, or 'was' as in..." Danny looked suddenly forlorn, wishing he could take back what he'd said.

Clara wanted to save him, "No he..." But what was she to say? _He regenerated and now is someone else._ "He died. Last Christmas." She tried to say it matter-of-factly, but her voice betrayed her.

Danny looked sympathetic. He was quiet for a long time, and then, unsure of what to say, responded, "Another reason to hate the holidays."

Clara laughed, "Exactly. As if they weren't hard enough. You're not a fan either?"

"The holidays for me involve my mother ignoring me, praising my brother for even the tiniest thing, and my step father being pompous. I guess he's that all year round, but at Christmas—"

"You actually have to be there for it?" Danny nodded with a laugh. "Last Christmas my father's 'special friend' just rhymed off all the _boys_ she could set me up with, said she could make a boy band out of them."

Danny made a face, and then looked sympathetic again, "Wait was this after your friend had died?"

"Yeah." Clara lied, because at the time she honestly believed she would never see the Doctor again, so it might as well have been.

Danny looked even more disgusted. "I think we should do away with it altogether."

"What, Christmas?"

"Yes. Let's put a stop to it. Except maybe Christmas crackers. I like the jokes."

Clara laughed, "I'm partial to the hats."

"Alright so Christmas crackers we'll keep. And food."

"Not if I have to cook. The only way I'll ever cook a successful turkey is if I have a..."

"Time machine?"

"Yeah," she smiled. In his unintentionally knowing moments, all she saw was the Doctor. Clara tried to ignore that impulse.

"Then we'll order in Thai. Christmas crackers and Thai food! How do you feel about ugly Christmas jumpers?"

"I'm for them," Clara said as seriously as she could muster.

"Caroling?"

"Against. The only time I sing is on a hen night. Or if the world's about to end."

"Friends?"

"No question."

"Family...?"

Clara gave this one some actual thought, "Yes, but by video phone or something so they can be muted or down right switched off if needed."

"I was just going to go with cardboard cutouts, but yeah, suppose we should give them a chance. It is Christmas after all."

"A much improved one." Clara raised her tea cup and clinked it off of Danny's. After taking a sip she asked, "So what holidays do you actually like?"

Danny's mouth was full of tea. He swallowed before answering, "Election Day."

Clara raised her eyebrows, "You're serious? That's not just something they make you say?"

"No. It's always been my favourite holiday. Even as a kid. My dad was Labour. So were all of his friends. We'd all get together and have a big party. It would be a lot of joking around, future hopes discussed in loud, cheerful voices, champagne if we won. One time there was confetti. It always felt the way New Years is suppose to feel but never really does, that this was the first day of a whole new time. That everything had changed and anything was possible." Maybe earlier in the night Clara would have wondered if Eleven got his optimism from Danny, or if it was just inherent to the Doctor, but that wasn't what came to mind. Her thoughts weren't on the Doctor at all. She took Danny's hand. He looked down at it in wonder before smiling back at her, "What was your favourite holiday as a kid?"

"My Mom's birthday," she replied, as she ran her thumb gently over the back of his hand. "I'd get up as early as I could, so I could sneak down to the kitchen."

"Surprise her with breakfast in bed?"

"That was the plan. But she would always hear me. Or at least knew I'd be there, because every year she'd be in the kitchen just as I finished getting out the ingredients."

"What would you make her?"

"A soufflé."

"That's ambitious."

"She helped. A LOT. And once it was out of the oven and we had put together a tray. She would go back to bed and pretend to be asleep when I brought it into her. Even acted surprised. And then the three of us would sit on my parents' bed and eat the soufflé right out of the pan."

"Sounds smashing."

"It was. But, you know, I think I liked the baking part of it even better. When it was just the two of us on those quiet mornings. I liked having her all to myself."

Danny noticed the past tense, but this time he decided not to ask. No need to lead them down that path again. Instead he said, "We're definitely adding soufflés to our new and improved Christmas."

"We're visionaries, we are." Clara smiled at him with a wicked grin. Her eyes darting down to his lips. He did the same, but was too shy to make the first move. Fortunately Clara's never been terribly timid. She kissed him. Lightly at first, but then with more urgency, wrapping her arms around his back. Danny was motionless for a moment, as if unsure what to do, and then, kissed her back with equal fervor.

They pulled away from each other breathless. Clara laughed at the impossibility of it all. For a moment she couldn't help but wonder if that's what the Doctor would have kissed like. The thought made her uncomfortable and she pulled away to reach for her (now cold) tea. Cup in hand she settled back under Danny's arm.

"So, if I play my cards right, will you make me a soufflé?" he teased.

"No, I like you too much. I'm rubbish at them. See my mom always said, 'the soufflé isn't the soufflé, the soufflé is the recipe'. But I have all of her recipes and they never turn out the way hers did."

"Just a pale imitation?"

"Exactly." Clara tried to smile, but the words rang out in her head. It wasn't fair, Danny was the original and the Doctor the copy, but it would never seem like that to her. If only he looked different. She really did like him and if Danny was just another guy she wouldn't be questioning her motives. But then if he was just another guy she never would have started talking with him in the first place. "I'll be right back," Clara said, before fleeing to the loo.

Clara had to sort this out and she had to do it quickly. She wanted to believe decision to kissing Danny had nothing to do with the Doctor, but she honestly couldn't be sure, and she didn't want a repeat of what happened with Casanova. That wouldn't be fair.

Clara walked back into the living room. Danny looked up excitedly, but his smile fell when he saw her face. "What's wrong?"

He sounded so much like the Doctor in that moment she knew she was right to end it. "This is going to seem bonkers, but..." How was she suppose to explain it? She took a seat next to him. "My friend, the one you remind me of... we were..." _What were they?_

"Lovers?"

"No."

"But you could have been. If he hadn't..." He didn't want to say 'died'.

"Possibly. I certainly had... feelings. Which is what's making this complicated."

It took Danny a moment to catch her meaning. He looked a bit deflated when he did, "Oh."

"I really like you," Clara said, but her reassuring tone was actually making it worse.

"But I'm not him."

"To be honest, I wish you didn't remind me of him at all. Then it would be easy. But the similarities keep making me second guess myself. I think it might be better if..."

"Yeah..." Danny stood up to take his leave. Clara walked at his side, neither quite sure what to say. He opened the front door, then he turned back to Clara and said, "It was very good to meet you, Clara Oswald."

"You too, Danny Foster." He stuck out his hand, but Clara pulled him into an embrace. They lingered there a long time before Danny pulled away. He smiled weakly, gave Clara a quick nod, and walked down the path to the street. Clara watched him go. She waited until he was out of sight before walking over to the blue box parked in her front garden.

"So he comes back, does he? I thought you were busy this Friday?"

"Well that's the beauty of a time machine," the Doctor didn't look up from the repair work he was doing to the console. "Doesn't matter how long I'm busy for, I can still arrive whenever I like. You were busy tonight, I take it." Even though the Doctor was still fixated on the console, Clara looked away. "I would have come up, but I thought it best not to cross my own timeline."

"Wouldn't be in danger of that."

"No, I suppose not. The skinny tie is a dead give away. I don't know if I'll ever understand them. How is Danny Foster, by the way? I always liked that lad. He wants to change the world. Very passionate." The Doctor met her eyes.

Clara did her best not to look away, "He's alright. Although tonight I think he might be a little... heart broken." The Doctor face was unreadable. She expected him to say something, but he simply look at her. After a long period of silence Clara asked, "So you know them all, then. All of your doppelgängers, all the people your regenerations are based off of?"

"Yes," he replied simply.

Clara moved until she was standing beside him, looking up into his lined face, "Who was this one, then?"

The Doctor was quiet for a moment, as if trying to decide whether to answer, finally he said, "He was a fool. A marble trader. I met him in Pompeii on volcano day."

"But why him?"

The Doctor looked at her with a softer expression, "He was a father, a family man. He would have done anything to protect the people he loved." He said this as though it in itself was an explanation, but Clara still didn't understand. "Whole new set of regenerations, all bets off, who knows who I might be. I wanted someone who would look out for you. Protect you. Which is silly." He walked away from her, under the pretense of putting his tools away.

"Why's it silly?"

He looked back at her over his shoulder, "Because, let's face it, you're the one who protects me." He smiled and Clara smiled back. All the tension suddenly gone. "Now what do you say to a trip to Yorkshire?"

"What's in Yorkshire?"

"Carl Lacey?"

"Should I know him? Who is he?"

"The man my Ninth self is based off of. Just thought I'd help you continue your quest to snog your way through my lookalikes." He shot her a wicked grin and it took all of her composure to keep from laughing. The sarcasm was definitely a change from his last self, but Clara quite liked it. Without cracking a smile she replied, "Think I'll take a pass."

"It's the nose, isn't it?"

"No, I like the nose. It's the ears. Too wibbly wobbly."

"I'll have to remember that for my next regeneration, no wobbly ears."

Clara couldn't help but laugh at that. She stopped abruptly when a thought occurred to her, "If regeneration isn't completely random and you have some control over it, do you think you will ever look like one of your old selves?"

The Doctor thought of the curator's message, that he'd be 'revisiting old faces'. The Doctor had thought that he was referring to the time they spent with Casanova, but perhaps Clara was closer to the mark. Only time would tell. The Doctor shrug, "Would you like me to?" He had asked Rose a similar question. He hadn't particularly like the answer.

Clara gave it some thought. "No," she said finally. "Besides, with eleven regenerations left I can hold out for a better looking one."

"Good luck with that," the Doctor said with a chuckle.

Eleven would have said, 'Oi!' He would have blushed and become flustered. And Clara knows she would have shot him a teasing grin and wondered for the millionth time if he fancied her. Twelve simply began punching in coordinates, neither pleased nor offended by her statement. And in that moment Clara realized she liked that better. As much as they could bicker and fight, there was a comfort between her and Twelve. There was no overanalyzing of feelings or actions. She knew exactly where they stood. They were best friends, it was as simple and easy as that. "So where are we actually going?"

"Winllan. Finest vineyards in the galaxy." She gave him a surprised look. "While I was waiting I found that wine skin you stole. It was dreadful. And since you seemed to like it I've decided you are in need of a formal wine education."

Clara was reminded once again that everything had changed, but instead of making her miss Eleven, it made her feel hopeful. Maybe Danny and his infinite optimism were right, maybe change could mean that anything was possible.


End file.
